


Fic: Sins of the Fathers

by samstjames



Category: Torchwood
Genre: F/M, Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-30
Updated: 2010-01-02
Packaged: 2017-11-07 10:45:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/430203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samstjames/pseuds/samstjames
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <div>
  <p>A/N: First of all: big thanks to karaokegal for the beta; that was such tremendous help!<br/>Apart from that... not so much to say about this (the obviousness of me going straight to hell not withstanding ;)). But it's definitively dangerous to just blabber... and blabber... with a friend. Oh and just to make sure: I'm using the verb "to drag" in this story, but it's purely metaphorical, it doesn't even hint to non-con; let's only breach one taboo at the time.<br/></p>
</div>
    </blockquote>





	1. Sins of the Fathers I

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: First of all: big thanks to karaokegal for the beta; that was such tremendous help!  
> Apart from that... not so much to say about this (the obviousness of me going straight to hell not withstanding ;)). But it's definitively dangerous to just blabber... and blabber... with a friend. Oh and just to make sure: I'm using the verb "to drag" in this story, but it's purely metaphorical, it doesn't even hint to non-con; let's only breach one taboo at the time.  
> 

**Title** \- Sins of the Fathers  
 **Author** \- Sam St. James  
 **Disclaimer** \- characters are not mine  
 **WARNING:** incest

Jack watched in contented amusement as Gwen searched for her previously discarded clothes. He enjoyed the sight of her completely naked body with those pale, seemingly endless slender legs. She was beautifully unashamed about her nudity, as usual, and he loved her for it. _Hell_... he couldn't believe his luck to have found someone nearly as adventuresome as he was. He'd rarely heard a “no” ever since he first persuaded her into his bed, although there _had_ been a few quirked eyebrows.

Sweat glistened on her oh-so-touchable, freckled skin and a rather large love bite was visible on the inside of her left thigh as she bent down to pick up her pants, providing him with a very nice, very inspiring view of her arse. She started to dress, apparently oblivious to his lecherous eyes raking over her naked body; or maybe she just didn't care.

Jack groaned, running a hand through his hair, suddenly feeling annoyed that she was leaving early tonight – just as Ianto had about two hours earlier... - when there was so much more they could do, could try. Despite his disappointment he smiled to himself at the explicit images this thought created; _God_... he absolutely loved her flexibility.

Fastening her bra she looked over at him, her green eyes shining sympathetically, but with a look of determination on her face that worried him. “This was the last time.”

“What?” The unanticipated, distanced seriousness of her tone rapidly snapped him out of the lingering post coital haze and the accompanying fantasies.

She repeated it, patiently, as if talking to a five-year-old. “I said this was the last time. We can't do this anymore.”

His own voice suddenly sounded displeasingly defensive. “Because of Rhys?” He stared at her in disbelief, bewildered by her change of mind. Sure, he knew she had been absolutely sickened by guilt, but he had talked or even more so literally screwed her out of most of it; at least that's what he had thought.

“Partly.”, she admitted, fumbling with her t-shirt. “But he said he didn't care if I was fucking you as long as I still came home to him.” It was back again, the tormented, haunted look of guilt in her eyes; he had really thought they were past that stage. Conscience must be nasty thing if Gwen was still suffering that heavily.

Jack frowned at her. “He really said that?”

“Uh... he was pretty pissed and angry at me for pulling another all-nighter, but yeah, he blabbed it on my voice mail... so I have it on tape.” She was busy putting on her tight-fitting jeans. “But I'm sick of cheating on him anyway.”

Jacks initial bewilderment changed to shock. Did she mean she was getting sick of him? Was she already bored? He had never been polished off like that, not when he still hadn't lost interest in his latest conquest. Given the prudish nature of this era when it came to sexual satisfaction, he had developed the tendency to stick to what he had anyway, rather than rid himself of it immediately once he got bored.

The problem with Gwen was and had been from the start that she just was too considerate of everyone. The only reason why he had been able to drag her into his bed in the first place and hold her there was her inherent masochistic streak, making her willing to suffer agonies inwardly as long as she wasn't openly hurting anyone else.

Which left only one other reason for her behaviour he could think of. “So it's Ianto?” They had had this particular conversation already once too often for his tastes, but obviously you just couldn't take the compassion out of Gwen. He had made it clear to Ianto that if he even tried to give Gwen a hard time he'd never see him again; unfortunately Gwen didn't need any outside input to blame and despise herself. “I know you feel uneasy about that Gwen, but my relationship with him is exactly that: _my_ business, so don't worry about it.”

She shook her head in disdain, scowling at him. “Sometimes you're such an arse... But no, Ianto and the fact that what I, what _we_ do is hurting him, is also only part of the reason.”

What the hell was she going on about then? He was getting frustrated now, slightly angered. Dammit! He didn't want her to walk away like that and leave him! And not just because he hated it to be walked away from, but because he really liked her, because she mattered to him and he had enjoyed all this way too much.

Getting even loosely attached was always risky, but had been inevitable where his hearty second-in-command was concerned. Apart from that, he'd miss her in bed, and not only the sex. Strange as it was, they didn't always straight away indulge in wonderfully uninhibited sex, fulfilling fantasies. From time to time they just talked, or rather he talked and Gwen listened, and he liked that, although it was almost too easy to share when she was around. “So what _is_ your problem?”

Gwen didn't answer at first, just knelt down briefly and fiddled with something in her bag before she tossed a piece of paper in his direction. It was a photograph, a yellowed black and white photograph and he didn't even need to look at it to know he didn't like the direction this was going. Although he barely remembered the looks of the woman who was depicted standing next to him on the photograph, he was pretty sure she was Gwen's grandmother without even bothering to decipher the intricate handwriting he found on the back. This was definitively not good.

Her face seemed distant, downright stony now as she looked at him, her voice was strained. “I'm afraid you might be my grandfather.” There, she said it. S _hit!_ Jack could tell that she was already sickened by herself, caught up in self-loathing. This would definitively complicate things. He had hoped she'd never even get suspicious, much less figure it out. Considering retconning her, he wondered how long the suspicion had been nagging at her. Probably too long, as it would perfectly explain the annoying reluctance she'd been displaying towards him lately.

Jack sighed; it would probably take him ages now to talk Gwen out of her rejection, assuming Torchwood gave them that much time. Getting past the moral boundaries of learned monogamy was one thing, and had been far from easy, especially where someone as inherently loyal as Gwen was concerned, but to overcome the deeply rooted incest taboo of this era another.

“Actually... I know I'm your grandfather.”

Sometimes he really hated the 21st century.


	2. Sins of the Fathers I

**Title** \- Sins of the Fathers II  
 **Author** \- Sam St. James  
 **Disclaimer** \- characters are not mine  
 **WARNING:** incest (people I mean it!), mentions post-sex retconning

The house looked nice from the outside, maybe a bit too middle-class for his tastes, but very neat; normal. So unlike Torchwood that for a second he almost feared he had the wrong address, but Jack knew he had come to the right place. He'd spent the last three months preparing for his return to earth, including a thorough search for Gwen's whereabouts and circumstances. He assumed she was probably the only one waiting for his return; Alice certainly wasn't. He wouldn't go so far as to say that he came back for Gwen, but her presence in this era factored tremendously his decision to come back to it.

Soft yellowish light was seeping through drawn curtains; the blinds weren't closed yet in most of the rooms. Although the garden looked a little bit neglected – the grass desperately needed to be mown – he guessed it would be nice enough, a safe place where Gwen's child would be able to play. All in all, this seemed to be a pretty place to raise a family; the thought caused an unexpected wave of melancholy to bubble up.

With a sense of slight reluctance he opened the garden gate and slowly made his way to the front door. He wasn't sure if he was at all welcome to invade her private life any further, especially not after what happened, but he _needed_ to see her. He knocked – using the bell was probably inappropriate, considering the presence of a baby – and then waited.

Rhys opened the door, his face displaying the typical fatigue of a young father who most likely hadn't gotten a full nights sleep since the child came home.

“You're done running, now, eh? Come to admire your work?”

Jack had no idea what Rhys meant by his question, so he opted to say nothing. After a moment of silence in which they just stared at each other, Rhys finally shrugged and stepped back, gesturing inside. “Come in then.” His accent was even thicker than Jack remembered.

“You might want to take your coat off, we keep it pretty warm in here. Don’t want the little one to become sick,” Rhys said, indicating the coat rack before walking down a small corridor towards what Jack supposed was the living room, paying him little to no attention.

Gwen's _presence_ in the living room was as obvious as it had been in the old flat. There were framed pictures and photographs at the walls, sitting on the boards, small, colourful trinkets everywhere. On the mantelpiece Jack found photographs of Gwen and Rhys, their parents, and what had to be a new one in a cheap glass frame of Gwen in a hospital garb with the baby; the skin red and still a bit scrunched up, but actually quite beautiful for a newborn. There was also a photograph of Tosh, Owen, Ianto, Gwen and him, laughing, whole. It almost hurt to look at them.

“Where's Gwen?”

“Where do you think?” Rhys snorted, the question came out both aggressive and defiant. “She's working, as usual... the whole week she had to stay in the hospital she was almost permanently on the phone. Torchwood here, Torchwood there. And now... after she has been home for just four weeks, she's back to chasing aliens whilst our little girl here is cranky and missing her mummy.” When a wail came from the bassinet standing next to the coffee table, Rhys glanced at his watch, his brows furrowing disapprovingly when he stared back at him. “And she's late again. This is all your fault, Harkness. You abandoned her. It was your responsibility to stay and help her through all this.”

Jack wasn't sure he was required to say anything to that and chose to ignore the reproach, a little bit unsure what to make of it; maybe Rhys was just ranting.

“She had a Cesarian section, you know, because it's easier to schedule around work. Screw maternity protection.” Despite the tinge of bitterness in his voice, Rhys was smiling like an idiot as he leaned over the bassinet and carefully lifted a small bundle of human life out of it. “Shh, mummy'll be home soon,” he murmured softly to the crying child, rocking it slightly up and down, trying to soothe it.

As if on cue, there was the sound of keys at the door. “Rhys, I'm home.”

“Here, hold her. And don't let her drop,” Rhys said in a fairly patronising tone before handing Jack the child. He strode off towards the corridor, but only after he had made sure that Jack was holding the baby properly. Being trusted with the child, without any reservations, felt wrong and at the same time… wonderful. It wasn't the first time he held a baby, but maybe one of the few times that the mother (hopefully) didn't have a serious grudge against him. He smiled at the tiny face looking up at him, his gaze met by big, blue eyes, seemingly staring in wonder. It reminded him of Gwen when she had seen a Weevil for the first time of her life; that seemed such a long time ago now.

Jack followed Rhys, but stayed a few steps away from the couple. Rhys briefly hugged Gwen and gently kissed her when she was done slipping out of a leather jacket.

Seeing Gwen made Jack feel as if no time had passed at all. Gwen obviously belonged to that small group of lucky woman for whom being pregnant didn't leave any obvious marks.

“Hey,” Gwen said, returning the kiss. Jack couldn't help feeling a little jealous at such an open display of familiarity and love, especially while he was holding their child.

“How was your day, sweetheart?” It sounded odd to hear Gwen ask Rhys about his day, and not the other way round, seeing as she had been at work, at Torchwood and he had only taken care of the baby. Yet it was also reassuring to know that Gwen still maintained the sense of priorities he'd tried, somewhat hypocritically – okay, if he was being honest _mainly_ hypocritically – to instil in her.

“It was fine, nothing spectacular. She's a bit fussy sometimes, but not crying much.” Rhys' hand wandered from her face to her waist, pulling her closer just a bit, before kissing her once more. “You're late again.”

“I know, I'm sorry. Things got a bit out of hand.”

“Are you injured?” His tone had changed from lovingly reproaching to worried as he scrutinised her.

Gwen laughed and Jack realised how much he'd missed this laughter, had missed that smile. “No, it's just dirt. I'm going to go wash up and then I'll feed her.”

“Okay. I'll make you something to eat.”

“Don't bother.” Jack knew that tone all to well. It said _I know I need to, but I don't want to be a burden_.

“Gwen, you need to eat properly or you'll start to waste away.”

“Okay, okay... I surrender.” Jack felt as if he could _hear_ her smile. “ _Mother_ Rhys knows best.”

Gwen came rushing into the living room, practically soundlessly in socks on laminate, and stopped dead in her tracks when she got close enough to see him.

“Jack.” She swallowed visibly before a smile spread on her lips. “You're back.” It was barely a whisper, but her face had lit up with the smile he remembered so well. If he hadn't been holding her child she would probably have crushed him in a welcoming hug.

“Yeah, I'm back. I thought I'd say hello to you first.” Seen so close, Gwen looked exhausted, dark circles under her eyes, but her eyes still held the same look that had always drawn him to her; soft, swimming with emotion, alive.

“You're going to stay? Because if not... I think I would've preferred...” An angry cry from the baby broke in on Gwen’s words, but Jack was pretty sure he knew what she had wanted to say.

He gave her a smile in lieu of actual reassurance and she accepted it with a shrug.

“All right then, bring her over there,” she gestured towards the sofa, while she herself took seat in a very comfy looking armchair, wrestled her left arm out of her shirt and opened her bra, black and unadorned, exposing a breast, clearly full and ready to feed her child.

“Give her to me.”

Gwen took the baby carefully, gently, running a finger along the peach-like cheek. The little girl immediately stopped wailing the second she was safely cuddled into the crook of her mothers arm. “I know, I'm a lousy mother,” Gwen said almost absentmindedly. “But mummy promises to be on time tomorrow.”

Jack watched in fascination, but also with unease as the baby latched immediately onto the exposed slightly swollen nipple as soon as Gwen held its head level with it and started sucking. Gwen stared intently at her child, all the while tenderly stroking the thin fuzz of dark hair, tracing the tiny ears with her fingers, a very content, loving smile on her lips. Visibly relaxing, she leaned back further into the chair.

“Maybe I should go now.”

Jack suddenly felt like an intruder, overwhelmed by the intimacy of watching Gwen nursing the baby. She had not even tried to shoo him away. He hadn't expected the willingness to include him in her life as if he had never disappeared from it. Gwen never ceased to surprise him. Most of his past experiences with babies and their mothers had been, to say the least, _awkward_ and the mothers had usually insisted on doing the nursing in private. The matter-of-factness with which Gwen accepted him as an observer to something so very private was a bit startling; and Jack wasn’t one to be surprised easily.

Gwen looked up at him, a slightly strange look on her face, almost as if she was hurt by his words. “Sorry, I didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable. I can turn around if it bothers you.”

“No, no. I just feel... like I don't belong here.”

“Huh?” She looked at him as if he was absolutely moronic. “By all means stay if it doesn't bother you. After all you have every right to be here. Or did Rhys try to send you away?”

He seated himself on the sofa, shaking his head as much in answer to her question as as sign of his own confusion.

“No, he didn't.” Jack felt he was missing a point somewhere, but he had no idea what it might be.

Silence settled between them, disturbed only by the slightly heavy breathing of the child for whom drinking seemed to equal exertion, a smacking from time to time and some soft nondescript noises from Gwen. Jack hadn't witnessed something so peaceful and intimate in a long time. It almost made his heart ache, but only almost. What really did ache was a completely different part of his body, and _that_ was definitely inappropriate given the situation. The lust for Gwen was still there he realised while staring at her breast, at the tiny hand of the baby kneading the soft flesh a little every now and then. His mind wandered back to the numerous times that he had caressed and sucked at those taut nipples, eliciting more than just sighs.

He barely resisted the urge to shake his head disapprovingly at his own carnal thoughts. After all he hadn't seen her in years (years for him, months for her) and had spent most of his time seeking oblivion, salvation or just some simple distraction by screwing his way through the universe. If he had expected his new conquests to dampen his desire for her, he'd been mistaken, which left him somewhat perplexed. After all, she was just an inexperienced human compared to the myriad joys the universe offered and he had so gladly enjoyed. It had been a relief to leave the prudishness of the 21st century behind. So why was he so interested in her? Especially now that she was burdened with a baby?

It was pointless to deny that he had been anxious to see her, but he'd told himself it was just because he wanted to know how she'd do as a mother and wanted to see her child (his great grand child). Now he realised that things were more basic and at the same time more complex than that. He had missed her, plain and simple. Missed her silent understanding, her compassion, her earnest care, the closeness between them, the emotions behind her eyes and the way that her body had felt so soft and unbelievably alive under him.

“So, do you remember?” Gwen asked, eyes again focused on the little girl in her arms sucking intently at her breast, bringing him back to reality.

Jack blinked. She really had to be more precise in her questions. “Remember what?”

For a second Gwen seemed upset as if he absolutely _should_ know what she was talking about and was now hurt by his obvious ignorance. She swallowed, lips twitching. “Remember... _siring_ her, because I certainly don't.”

“What?” The archaic formulation disturbed him as much as the impact behind the words. Words of vehement denial – because he hadn't, had he? – were forming on his tongue but never made it past his lips.

Gwen looked at him as if he was being particularly daft, her voice patient, but slightly strained. “Rhys isn't the father.” Closing her eyes she took a deep breath. “She has your eyes, you know? Genetics also showed consanguinity of the parents, so I was right about my suspicions that you're my grandfather.” Concern must have shown on his face, because Gwen hurried to reassure him. “Don't worry, the scanners and tests said that she's a healthy little girl, absolutely perfect.” Gwen smiled when the hand of the baby closed around the finger with which she had been caressing it. “So do you remember?”

He stared in shock at her and the baby as the truth behind her words sank in, while his mind was already trying to answer the question how _this_ could have happened. It was true, they had engaged in unprotected sexual intercourse, once or twice, but even then “unprotected” had only meant that they hadn't used condoms. With Gwen being on the pill, she shouldn't have conceived a child out of those encounters. She just... couldn't have got pregnant, unless... the memory hit him like a punch in the gut.

Oh God... he had been such an idiot, not even thinking about this possibility when he had retconned her because she had voiced her suspicions about him being her grandfather, but only _after_ he had slept with her. And it had all been in vain anyhow, since she'd found out after all.

“I remember... kinda.” Jack ran a hand through his hair, angry at himself, angry at his own lack of responsibility or rather his stupidity. He had bloody well _known_ that retcon interfered with contraception. It wouldn't have been the first time that his family had been enlarged this way, but he certainly hadn't planned on this happening to Gwen. “I'm so sorry Gwen.”

“Don't be silly.” Her eyes fixed on him, due to the dim, mellow lighting a warm hazel now instead of the lively green he had seen earlier. “It's a child, God's blessing.” Despite her cheery tone, which was probably a bit forced anyway, she suddenly looked crestfallen, defeated. “And it can't be undone now anyway.”

“Does Rhys know?” Judging by Rhys's devotion in his care for the baby Jack would have said he didn't know, but then again he had made the comment about Jack coming to admire his work, which now made considerable more sense.

“What do you mean? That he isn't the father or that the father of his daughter is also the grandfather of his wife?” There was only a slight tinge of bitterness in her voice, not as much as he had expected given the nature of her question. She obviously didn't expect him to answer either. “He knows he's not the father. I told him the moment I found out, didn't want to foist the baby on him. It wouldn't have been fair. But he has no clue about the rest.” _About the incest_. Gwen didn't say it, but the words were there, echoing in Jack's head and probably hers too. “And if I can help it, he'll never know.”

“He's not leaving you, is he?”

“No. He's not. He says he's her father no matter what. God I wouldn't know what to do without him... However he was _upset_ about our carelessness. _Fucking around and getting pregnant_.” She mimicked Rhys voice astonishingly well, although Jack could see tears welling up in her eyes. She furiously blinked them away. “And I can't even remember it.”

“Gwen...” He had walked over to her, placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it gently. “If I had known I...”

“You still would've run anyway.” Gwen had turned again to watch her child, her features softening. The baby had stopped sucking and apparently fallen asleep, lips still loosely closed around the nipple. “I'm not blaming you. I always knew that you wouldn't stick around forever, especially considering that I was just another fleeting distraction for you.” She paused for a sigh before continuing. “You know, there was a reason why I married Rhys.”

Rhys clearly wasn't the type of man Jack would've chosen and it had hurt seeing _his_ Gwen marry him, _his_ Gwen choosing Rhys over him. Of course she hadn't been his back then, but she could've been if things had developed just a wee bit differently. Finding the ring on her finger had felt as if a knife had been stabbed right into his chest, sending him in search of other distractions, but it had taken him years to admit that to himself. Despite his own intentions he had even fostered, supported Gwen’s relationship with Rhys. He was a good man, who could give Gwen the security she desperately needed and who loved her, although she had hurt him on numerous occasions.

Gwen must’ve been thinking the same or at least something very similar. When she looked at him now, shaking her head, for just a brief moment he got a glimpse of the self-loathing that was obviously nagging at her before it was reigned in again. “He deserves better than me.”

Jack didn't know what to say to her because she was wrong and right at the same time with her assessment of him, and instead opted for just touching her. He'd always been good at that. Gwen's eyes closed again, her lips parting a bit when he caressed her cheek. Her skin was as soft and smooth as he remembered. Jack couldn't stop himself from getting caught up in the moment, pressing his lips to hers gently, a tender brush of skin on skin, unbelievably familiar and yet, yet almost out of his reach. Only _almost_ he realised as she didn't back away, didn't try to evade his touch, but maybe she was just too tired.

And tired she was. He could see it in the way her eyelids fluttered when she looked at him, in the way she leant unconsciously further back into the comfy armchair. He knew Gwen. He had seen her fresh and energised in the morning, had seen her in pain, had seen her cold out, had seen her face flushed with passion and contorted with bliss, and he had seen her tired to the bone. Gwen was dead tired but had tried hiding it up to this point.

“So you're back for work, then? Honestly... we need you. It's a wonder that the world didn't end with only amateurs trying to keep it together.” She smiled to herself, eyes closed, her speech slow and a little slurry; despite Jacks best intentions he could only stare at her lips and wonder when he’d be able to kiss her again properly. “I expect you to report tomorrow morning at 9 for duty.”

“Boss of me now, are you?” He smiled back at her although he knew she wouldn't see it, his fingers tangled in her silken hair as he kneeled next to her, still fighting against the sudden and unexpected flare of desire that the brief kiss had caused.

“You bet.” She chuckled a bit, oblivious to his hardship, the soft chuckle turning into a fully-fledged yawn. “I've even been knighted. Call me Dame now.” She stifled another yawn. “No seriously, you can have the leadership back. It's better if someone who actually has a clue is in charge.”

Jack hadn't been sure if he wanted to return to Torchwood at all. Coming back to earth had probably been inevitable but going back to work for Torchwood wasn't necessarily on his agenda. He'd lost so many things working for Torchwood, _being_ Torchwood. Why not let others carry this responsibility for once? On the other hand, he felt bad letting the mother of his daughter take care of Torchwood and the Rift any longer than he had to. Obviously that's what she'd been doing. Voluntary or involuntary, Gwen had become Torchwood, guardian of the Rift. “So where exactly do I report for duty?”

Gwen didn't answer his question. She wouldn't be answering any other question this night, being asleep, her head inclined to the side, leaning against the headrest, with her eyes firmly closed, lips slightly parted; her breathing was even. The grip around the child loosened only slightly.

“The rebuilt Hub or rather the construction site of it,” Rhys answered unexpectedly. “Torchwood's already working in the reconstructed parts.”

Despite his research efforts, that _insignificant_ detail must have somehow escaped Jack. Maybe he'd lost his edge during the time away or maybe he’d been too focused on other things.

Rhys had come back to the living room, carrying a plate with some food on it. When he saw Gwen’s sleeping form, with Jack still kneeling next and so very close to her, Rhys took a deep breath, resigning or maybe wishing Jack far far away. “Not again”, he muttered, his eyes boring into Jack accusingly as if it were his fault that Gwen had fallen asleep.

After placing the plate on the coffee table, Rhys gently took the baby out of Gwen’s arms. “Lend me a hand and carry her upstairs, will you?”

For a moment Jack hesitated, but then shrugged and carefully scooped Gwen up in his arms as best as possible, her head coming to rest at his shoulder. “Mhmm...,” she murmured something absolutely indiscernible, cuddling against him and for a second she looked so frail, so unbelievably defenceless and vulernable, it tore at him.

“Terrifying, isn't it?” Rhys was looking at him, cradling the child against his broad chest, nodding understandingly towards Gwen's sleeping form.

Jack just looked back at him, nodding and followed him upstairs into the plain bedroom. The fluffy pastel-coloured covers on the bed were already folded back and Jack carefully placed Gwen onto the mattress while Rhys busied himself at a changing table, tending to the baby.

“Come on, don't just stare. Make yourself useful and change her clothes. It's not like you'd be undressing her for the first time,” Rhys admonished him, tossing a pair of pyjamas on the bed.

For a moment Jack was slightly taken aback by the sting behind this quip and the venom in Rhys’s voice. There had always been tension between them, but now there was also an astonishing amount of rancour. On the other hand, that was pretty understandable, and for a cuckolded husband, especially one with an illegitimate child dropped at his feet, Rhys had actually behaved very civilly so far. No big guns, no fist in his face. Jack could clearly remember far worse encounters. He wondered, not without slight worry, if Rhys was also talking to Gwen like that, but guessed he wasn't. His _resentment_ seemed to be focused on a well defined target, and that target wasn't Gwen. If Rhys had disliked him before, he could say for sure now that their relationship hadn't improved one iota.

The baby had begun to struggle and cry, protesting loudly against the obvious inadequacies of the situation. “Shh... everything's fine. Time to go to bed now...,” Rhys cooed to the wailing baby, his voice again soft and soothing.

Gwen hardly stirred as Jack pulled her t-shirt over her head and removed her bra. She just mumbled in her sleep, absolutely dead to the world. Her face stayed still and relaxed even when he had to exert some effort to pull down the jeans that hugged her thighs so tightly. He wondered if she fell into such an exhausted sleep every night but wasn't sure it was his place to ask about it.

Gwen wasn't heavy, but dressing her unresponsive, limp body was surprisingly hard work. With a sigh he surrendered to the task of putting on her pyjamas and gave up on it; her pants would need to suffice. It wasn't like he did that sort of thing every day. Normally he only _undressed_ people and most of the time they were rather keen on helping him do it, instead of unconscious.

“Uh Rhys...”

Rhys made a dismissive and slightly rude gesture, clearly displaying how little he thought of him. “Yeah, whatever. Just tuck her in.”

After carefully covering Gwen with the blanket, he smoothed a strand of hair away from her pale face and placed a kiss on her forehead. He caressed her cheek, with a gentle, lingering touch until he heard Rhys clear his throat exaggeratedly. Rhys had laid the baby into the crib and retreated towards the door, silently calling upon Jack now to do the same.

When they were outside Rhys didn't completely close the door behind them, presumably so he'd be able to hear the baby if she started to cry again. He walked Jack back to the front door remaining absolutely silent, but making it clear with his body language that he wanted him gone.

“Thank you.” Jack felt he owed it to Rhys to at least voice his gratitude. He had already put on his coat stood on the door step, ready to leave, _for now_.

Rhys stared at him, a brow arching upwards. “What for?”

“For not leaving her. There are a lot of men out there who would've just walked away in your situation.”

“This may be a foreign concept to you Harkness, but it's called love.” Rhys' voice broke slightly. “Let me tell you something: I willl kill you if you get her pregnant again and I'll take care that you stay dead if you so much as think about abandoning her again.”

Part of Jack was offended by the assumption that he didn't know what love was, but an even bigger part of him was more intrigued by Rhys' exact words. He hadn't said anything about staying away from Gwen or keeping his hands off her, just that he shouldn't impregnate her again. That, indeed, was a very interesting development. “Rhys...”

Rhys responded by stabbing an angry finger against his chest, his voice barely containing the anger that must have been brewing for months. “Oh shut it! This is _my_ home, _my_ wife, _my_ daughter and no matter what Gwen thinks, as far as I'm concerned, you've got no fucking right to even think about _any of it_ as yours. So just for a second you'll bloody listen to what I have to say. She's not going to tell you this, because she knows you don't want to hear it, but she loves you and she suffered terribly when you just ran away. I'm not just going to see her go through that again.” Rhys shook his head, a pained undertone mixing with the anger. “You didn't see it, her shock... all that...” One hand clenched into a fist, shaking slightly. “...shame and self-hatred.” Jack saw Rhys swallow as if he was choking on the words, parts became a bit fragmented when his vioce cracked. “...her desperate apologies,” Rhys paused again, jaw clenched tightly and Jack could only imagine how bad things had really been, despite Gwen's calm and brave demeanor.

“You weren't here.” It was an accusation and the painful emotions held in Rhys' voice had been substituted by anger again. “And _now_ you have the nerve to just come back and waltz into our life. The only reason why I'm not beating the crap out of you is because it would upset her and she's been upset enough in the past.”

Jack, slightly surprised at Rhys' speech, thought it wise to refrain from reminding Rhys that beating the crap out of him wouldn’t change anything; especially considering that he’d be fine and unblemished in less than half an hour afterwards. He also didn't mention that Gwen had welcomed him with open arms. And concerning the rest of what Rhys had tossed at him... it wasn't as if he had _known_. Although Gwen was convinced that it wouldn't have changed anything, Jack wasn't so certain about that. But it was absolutely pointless to think about these things now or to waste any words on them; it couldn't be undone.

Instead he decided to inquire a bit more about what he had originally wanted to ask Rhys before his outburst. “So you're not telling me to keep my hands off her?”

“Honestly, does everything you do or say always need to be about sex? Don't you ever get sick of it?” Rhys shook his head again, eyeing him with open disgust, but the anger seemed to be wearing off as fast as it had bubbled up. “Just don't hurt her.” Jack could see the defeat and the silent acceptance in Rhys' eyes.

Jack was temporarily at a loss for words, until he smiled and turned to go. “I won't,” he called back over his shoulder.

If Gwen and Rhys allowed it he would like to come back and see his daughter grow up. He did want to know how the child fared and maybe help out here and there, even if he wasn't particularly interested in being the actual father and raising her. He wouldn’t deny the interest he still had in Gwen, though.

Jack knew he hadn't been a good father in the past and he was unlikely to be one in the future. He was honestly relieved that Rhys had taken over that job. Otherwise he would've felt obligated to take care of Gwen and the child, and while there could've been worse fates than that, he would've felt suffocated eventually.

It didn't look as if the Cooper/Williams-family would need any additional money, seeing how much Gwen earned working for Torchwod – and knowing Gwen's fiery temperament she'd probably rip off his head if he so much as offered to pay child support – but that didn't mean he couldn't come by and maybe bring little presents, not to mention doing a thorough background check on any friends the girl might ever bring home.

Blinds were closed and lights went out. It looked as though the whole house had gone to sleep, reminding him that although he didn't sleep he would need a place to stay. He definitely needed to talk with Gwen about that, to see if she had any suggestions, but then again he needed to talk with Gwen about a lot of things as it seemed.

All in all this was more than just a bit ironic. He had been on the run for years to try and rid himself of his old life and now… apart from the obvious changes everything would be back to normal. Life was going on, whether he wanted it to or not.

Jack sighed, feeling slightly stupid all of a sudden.

He hadn't even asked for the name of his daughter.


	3. Fic: Sins of the Fathers III

**Title** \- Sins of the Fathers III  
 **Author** \- Sam St. James  
 **Disclaimer** \- characters are not mine  
 **WARNING:** incest (people I mean it!)

Gwen awoke, consciousness creeping back to her like a curtain slowly lifting. Her mind swam a bit, as if her head was stuffed with cotton and there was a moment of disorientation when she opened her eyes. Everything around her was completely dark for the first few seconds, before the sensory cells on her retina adapted to the low light levels of the yellowish sodium-vapour street light that filtered in through the curtains.

It took her sleep clogged brain a while to realise that it was obviously in the middle of the night and that she was lying safely in own her bed.

The clock on the bedside stand showed five minutes after midnight and Gwen wasn't sure how long she'd been out. She couldn't remember how she got to bed in the first place; _hell_ she couldn't even remember undressing, but was only wearing knickers. Either she had been retconned – which she doubted – or Rhys must have tucked her in after she fell asleep somewhere; maybe in the armchair again.

That wasn't so unusual, or rather it had become almost normal for her lately. Physical exhaustion made it easier to bear, made it easier not to think about... about the past, about the people she had lost and hurt, about what she and Jack had done. Exhaustion guaranteed dreamless sleep and therefore her sanity.

With a slight sigh she closed her eyes again.

 

Although she couldn't remember going to bed, she clearly remembered Jack. Jack standing in the living room holding her... _their_ baby, flashing his usual smile, not looking any different from the day he left or any different from any day she'd ever seen him.

Gwen knew she should have felt revolted and angry just seeing him, but instead there had been relief and butterflies in her stomach and adrenaline rushing through her body. She could remember the excited flutter of her heart at his touch, the pleasant tingling of her skin when his lips brushed hers.

The memory of her indulgence in his caress caused her stomach to knot in disgust, guilt and shame.

_Oh God_... it didn't matter what had happened, what he had or had not done or how much she had been hurt. The attraction, the pull she had felt towards him was still there.

Gwen had never been sure about what Jack felt for her and she wasn't convinced she _wanted_ to know; she had never been really sure about the extent of her feelings for him either. There had been an emotional connection, they were friends and she loved him (in a way), but she had been too realistic to think she was anything more than a plaything for him when it came to their affair.

Still it had broken her heart when he left. Rationally she had known it wasn't about her, but that hadn't prevented her from feeling personally abandoned.

But now... she wasn't sad anymore and she wasn't angry at him; why should she be? If anyone was to blame for this mess and her illegitimate child it was herself. She didn't even feel guilty about sleeping with Jack; that had been the most exciting sex of her life, not great every time, but exciting, captivating, addictive – how could she feel guilty about that? No, the physical act wasn't making her feel guilty, nor did the fact that she had very much enjoyed it. She felt so terribly guilty because she had hurt Rhys again, who clearly deserved better, and ashamed (and maybe even a bit disgusted) because she now knew for sure Jack was her grandfather.

Ignorance was no excuse for committing incest, at least not where _her_ conscience was concerned. Jack obviously hadn't cared before and he didn't seem to care now, and _that_ really worried her.

***

Gwen knew she could've only slept for a few hours. Which meant she should've been out too deeply to wake up without a reason. And that meant that something must've woken her. Finding out what would help her ignore the emotional turmoil inside just a little longer.

But there was nothing strange or out of the ordinary as far as she could _hear_. Everything was silent but not too silent. She could hear the breathing of two other people apart form herself – the baby and Rhys; reassuring. 

Rhys' breath was coming in quite rapid gusts of warm, humid air against her neck. Almost as if he were panting. That was a bit strange, although nothing that should've woken her.

She could feel the heat radiating off of Rhys' body against her back where he was spooning her. It was warm and comfortable under the blankets and she was extremely tempted to just drift off to sleep again, not bothering with whatever might've roused her.

_Wait... There!_

A touch, feather-light and suddenly she didn't feel sleepy in the slightest. Warm fingertips brushing, not quite touching, the skin low on her stomach barely above the hem of her pants; a fleeting contact. Another brush, even lighter than the first, but still sufficient in its sensuality that it caused a warm, slightly fuzzy feeling to spread in her stomach. _That_ was certainly unexpected.

Gwen nestled a bit further against Rhys, welcoming the warmth and cosiness and felt him stiffen at her movements. For a moment they both lay still, their breaths held. Finally he exhaled with a slight gasp when her naked thigh brushed against what could only be an erection. As had become normal lately Rhys wasn't wearing any pyjamas.

It had already dawned on her that Rhys was probably awake and that indeed he had been panting. The thought caused another pang of guilt to flare to life; she hadn't been very considerate of the physical aspects of her marriage recently, being mostly too tired and exhausted to even think about sex or simply falling asleep during foreplay. Gwen clenched her teeth imagining how frustrating that had to be for Rhys. _He never said anything_.

After what felt like an eternity of almost painful tension, Gwen felt Rhys relax again, although his breathing was still a bit too fast and slightly laboured. When his hand was again slightly caressing her stomach, she gently took hold of it, pressing it against her skin until it was splayed flat out, letting the heat of it seep into her.

“I'm awake, Rhys.”

“I'm sorry, Gwen. I didn't want to wake you.” Rhys whispered, voice apologetic but also a little bit strained.

“You didn't.” Well maybe he did, but that wasn't of importance right now.

She turned in the embrace until she could face him in the darkness, her body sliding against his under the covers, naked skin against naked skin and Rhys took another sharp breath. “Gwen...”

Kissing his collarbone lightly, she could feel Rhys' large frame practically shudder against her. Rhys had obviously showered before going to bed, still faintly smelling of that shower gel of his that she liked so much and sometimes sneakily used herself. His hair was slightly damp when she ran a hand through it. Letting a hand slowly trail along the side of his body, over his shoulder, down his ribcage until it rested on his hips, she felt Rhys take another deep breath, his erection pressing pronouncedly against her thigh.

“You're tired, let's sleep.” One of his hands gently patted her head before he planted a kiss to her hair, obviously trying to ignore his arousal for her sake.

“Not _that_ tired,” Gwen's lips twitched into a smile that she knew he couldn't see in the darkness. “But if _you_ don't want to...”

She didn't even get the chance to finish her teasing sentence because Rhys was already moving, pressing her against the mattress with his weight, one of his hands pinning her arms down above her head. “You have no idea.” His voice was raw and excited and that in turn made her almost giddy with excitement as well.

Her heartbeat was turning into a rapid and not overtly rhythmic staccato in her chest and the muscles in her stomach tightened in anticipation when Rhys' fingers came to brush some stray strands of hair out of her face. Even with the lack of proper light she could see the slight shimmer of sweat on his skin, a glint in his eyes when he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers in a kiss that left both of them suitably breathless.

Gwen knew that Rhys actually very much liked it to be on top, but usually refrained from acting upon it. Probably he worried that she would dislike having him in the dominant position – which she didn't mind – or that maybe he feared he'd hurt her somehow, or... whatever other irrational reason he might have. Those things actually didn't worry her in the slightest. True, Rhys was pretty solid compared to her, but she liked his broad shoulders and figure. She would have to talk to him about that at some point; he deserved getting what he wanted as much as she did.

He kissed down her throat to her breasts, very carefully sucking on her nipples, which were still a bit sore from nursing but _oh so sensitive_ , gently caressing them with his tongue, sending exquisite shivers down her spine and causing goosebumps to spread on her arms. His free hand caressed her stomach, pausing, lingering on the fading scar from the section for a second before travelling further down, brushing over her by now already slightly trembling thighs.

Rhys certainly wasn't the most skilled lover she ever had, but he was always considerate, and he had become quite practised during all their years together, knowing exactly what would cause her to arch her back against him and make her gasp. 

***

Gwen felt heavy and satisfied and very much like drifting off to sleep again, now lying comfortably cuddled against Rhys, his arms wrapped around her. Rhys embrace was tight, clutching her against his broad chest as if afraid she would dissolve into thin air if he didn't.

“Now, that _he_ 's back... You're not going to run away with _him_ , are you?”

_Don't leave me._ Gwen felt as if she could almost hear it, the fear, the insecurities that were clearly troubling Rhys. For a second she was too surprised to answer. Not only did the question itself catch her off guard, but also the venom in Rhys' otherwise almost anxious tone when he referred to Jack was something she hadn't expected.

Confused she blinked a few times, trying to shake off the haze of sleepiness that had been threatening to overwhelm her just seconds ago. “No. Of course not.” She craned her head a little to be able to kiss him. “Why should I? Everything I want I have here.”

Gwen more felt than actually saw Rhys nod in response, before his head rested leaned against hers. For a moment the embrace got even tighter. “I love you...” Rhys' voice was strangely hoarse, almost broken. “...I love you.”

_He is crying. Rhys is crying._ It took a while before her brain registered what this meant and she was almost overwhelmed by the affection and love she felt for this man that she had hurt so deeply and who still happened to love her back. “Thank you... thank you so much.” _Thank you for loving me_. Gwen wasn't confident that her words were even understandable or made a lot of sense anyway. There were tears starting to fill her eyes and she could barely breath for a moment that had nothing to do with Rhys' too tight grip.

“I love you too.”


End file.
